Back here on fanfic for the first time in a couple of years. Came across this, and remember reading it a while back. It's very well done, quite heartbreaking. I have a thing for pre-raphaelite work, and appreciate the poem by Christina Rossetti a lot. I really liked this a lot. Good job. Favorited.

This story's been around for quite a while but I only came across it tonight. Very sad (I still got tears in my eyes...) but great writing all the same - or even because of it. I'll definitely check out you other stories, too.

Oh my gosh, what a great piece of fan fiction, that was really good. You did really well, although I couldn't tell if it was alternat reality or not. I have a great story idea for you, but will write you later.

" “Mr. Mallard.” The doors opened in ghostly silence, and Ducky was no longer alone. “Doctor Mallard, actually,” he corrected. “But you may call me Ducky.”" - OK, Ducky presumably studied medicine and pathology, his area of specialization, in the UK, right? Well, according to my knowledge of the British medical system, whoever is talking to Ducky IS actually correct, then, in the above-mentioned quote, since as far as I know, all ordinary GPs in the British medical system are referred to by the title 'doctor', but the moment you did some specialised training, your title reverts to 'Mr.'. (I have no idea what they call you if you are a woman and you are amedical specialist of some kind, though).

Oh, how sad and wonderful - at the same time - a little oneshot this was!